A Common Thing
by PenInHand9
Summary: After a stinging fight with Briar, Sandry runs away, leaving her nobility behind her. Will she come back? Only time will tell... R&R Rating is an extreme caution, prolly wont be that bad but im to lazy to figure that out now
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first CoM fic (or Tamora Pierce for that matter). Go easy on me.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I don't own. Anything you don't recognize…. well, you probably don't wanna know….

"What's a bag like you good for? Nuthin but marryin off to the highest bidder!" Briar's words cut through Sandry's anger like a knife. She stared up at him as he towered above her 5 foot 4 frame, flush red and fists clenched.

They had been fighting a lot lately. Briar, Daja, and Tris were staying at the citadel for the midsummer holiday, celebrating, reminiscing, and supporting Sandry through the countless balls that she had to attend. As her 18th birthday approached, more and more suitors attempted to court her, an unusual strain for her. Sandry wasn't interested in marrying in the least. However, occasionally there would be a man who captured her attention, whether by humor, or kindness, or that they simply didn't smother her.

Briar had been fine at first, all smiles and teasing. But it seemed that every ball he grew more irritated, teasing turning into jibes, Sandry couldn't say two words to him without stomping away in frustration.

This one had started simple enough. Briar was scorning Sandry's latest interest; a noble from Sotat, whose deep blue eyes and wicked humor gained her favor immediately. Now the two mages were hurling insults at eachother from across Sandry's favorite sitting room. They were alone. Daja and Tris had taken off at the start of the argument, muttering darkly amongst themselves about people who couldn't hold civilized conversations with each other.

This fight was different. Sandry had been feeling the strain of her nobility, hating it more with each empty headed suitor intent on using her, and her trip to visit her cousin, empress of Namorn, had not helped matters in the least. Nor had the snide remarks Briar had been so keen to give her lately.

Sandry felt tears welling in her eyes and shoved them back. Straightening up to her fullest height, her chin jerked up and her face bore a withering glare.

"So good to hear the opinion of a street rat," she replied coldly, making sure to spit 'street rat'. Then, she turned and left him to growl after her in fury.

When she turned the corner, she picked up her skirts and ran. Only when she was in her room did she let herself make a sound. Screaming her fury, she kicked her desk, then leapt to her bed and pummeled her pillow.

Cursing in five different languages, Sandry barely noticed when tears leaked down her cheeks. Sobs tore from her, and for a while she lay there crying. It was then that she noticed the threads of her dress quivering. She sent a wavering bit of comfort to them with her magic, calming the fabric. Finally, her rage subsided, leaving only a cold, dull resolve.

She couldn't do it anymore. She could not live with being a noble anymore. Slowly, like a tapestry being woven before her, Sandry formed a plan. She was going to escape.

A/N: There ya go! First chappie's complete. On to numero dos! Remember, we don't except cash, check, or credit, just reviews…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was inspired, so I got this chappie out quick. Have fun with it!

Disclaimer: See the plot? Right there, it's called the plot of the story. I own that. Nothing else.

Carefully, Sandry mentally sealed herself off from the others, making sure to not let any of her thoughts slip out. It was hard at first to maintain, but breathing steadily, she was able to keep the wall in place.

Then, going over to her wardrobe, Sandry searched among her things. All of her dresses were far too fancy. Pulling out a half finished day gown in green cotton, Sandry quickly finished the bottom hem and held it up. The dress was sturdy but without the embroidery and lace she'd normally put in. It would do.

Slipping out of the gown she'd been wearing, Sandry paused. She fingered her braids. Common women tended to wear their hair shorter, to keep out of the way. With Sandry's long braids, she'd not only be recognized as herself, she'd be easily picked out as a noble.

Trembling hands reached into her sewing kit and pulled out scissors. Sandry kneeled in front of her vanity mirror, undoing her braids, memorizing her face as a noble. It was the last time she would she it.

Once her hair hung loose, Sandry grabbed a handful, placed her scissors at chin length and cut.

Sandry stared at the hair in her hand, amazed at how easy it was. Then quickly, and a bit wildly, she cut the rest off. The last lock fell to the floor and Sandry stared at the mirror. The girl that stared back seemed to be a stranger to Sandry.

With a sharp shake of her head, Sandry snapped out of her daze. She could get to know the new Sandry later. She pulled on the green dress, specifically telling the cotton to misbehave so she would look more mussed. Then Sandry scurried around the room, gathering supplies, including a few coins and the contents of a basket of fruit. Swinging a black cloak over her shoulders Sandry looked in the mirror again. A commoner stared back at her. The hair on the floor was gathered up and hidden in her sewing kit.

She quickly tidied her room, wrote a brief note to her Uncle saying not to look for her, and scanned the room for anything left undone.

Smoothing her skirt nervously, Sandry felt a lump in her skirt pocket. It was her night light, the crystal that Daja, Tris, and … Briar had made for her, because of her fear of the dark. She held it a minute, her last comfort and tie to her old self. Then she threw it on the bed and left the room.

A/N: Review if you liked. Happy holidays everyone, I'm off to see the wizard!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's number 3! I had a bit of fun with this one. The **bold** is other ppl (namely Tris) talking in Briar's head. The _italics_ are Briar's thoughts. Well, most of them are. Anyway- enjoy.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't dream about thinking about saying that I owned Tamora Pierce's work! 0;) ---does that look like an angel to you?

Breakfast was never considered a big deal at the duke's citadel. Briar would usually head to the kitchen half awake, cracking open one eye only to risk serious injury. He had never been a morning person. Grabbing a piece of fruit and a water flask, Briar would head out to the gardens for the remainder of the morning. He rarely saw the girls till lunch, when they would gather for a meal.

_Great_ he thought fiercely, _a whole peaceful morning before I have to deal with Miss Noble. _ Briar grimaced, remembering their argument the night before. He had said some things he probably would regret. But she deserved it! Prancing around those men like a tavern wench. It was disgusting.

**I would hardly call it prancing.**

_Tris! Get out of my head!_ Briar roared.

**You should talk to her. Apologize. **she suggested, ignoring him like always.

_I need to apologize--!_

**I'm glad you agree. I'm giving you till lunch. I will not sit through another uncivilized meal. Remember last time?** Briar shuddered.

_How was I supposed to know she could throw like a shepherd boy? _

**Yes, well you got a nice shiner from that orange didn't you?**

Briar muttered under his breath as he dropped to his knees and began weeding.

_Dang-cursed nobles. All fired up at a few words in passing. _

**Briar, you called her a slut. **

_Well she was all over that man from the merchant guild!_

**I don't want to hear it. Apologize. **And with that Briar could feel her withdraw from his mind and seal herself off.

"Go stuff yourself," he muttered, causing nearby gardeners to look at him strangely. He hesitantly prodded his tie to Sandry. Nothing. Gray and dull it seemed as if it wasn't even there. Briar shivered at the thought. He did maybe go a bit too far, he could admit to that. Yanking out a weed and strengthening the ivy it had been draining, Briar decided he'd make it up to her somehow.

Time passed quickly, and before Briar realized it the sun was burning directly over head. Sitting back on his heels, the plant mage wiped sweat from his forehead. Lunchtime.

Heading to his room, he washed and changed, then went to the small dining hall in the east wing. Cautiously, Briar poked his head inside the door, ready for flying projectiles. None came, but Duke Vedris, Daja, and Tris were seated and quietly conversing over salads. Sandry was nowhere to be seen. Briar entered all the way and plopped down on his chair. The duke nodded at him, then frowned at Sandry's empty chair.

"It's unlike Sandrilene to be late," he commented. "Do any of you know where she is?" Briar squirmed, as though under direct accusation, and Tris glared at him.

"I haven't seen her all morning," Daja mused, Tris nodded in agreement. "Maybe she's still her room?" Daja shrugged at the puzzled look Duke Vedris sent her.

"Maybe you should get her, Briar. You haven't started eating yet," Tris suggested – very strongly. Briar grinned weakly and stood.

"Good idea, Tris. Er… I'll be right back." And with that Briar found himself in front of Sandry's door. How did he get himself into these things?

Sighing, he knocked.

"Sandry? Lunch is ready." No answer. He knocked a little harder. "Look, about last night. I'm sorry for what I said, it was out of line." Still nothing. Starting to get frustrated, Briar turned the door knob. It was unlocked. "I'm coming in…."

The door swung open, revealing…. an empty room. Briar felt slightly sheepish for talking to himself. He was about to leave when something caught his eye.

A light, dimmed in the sun rays streaming through the window, sat on Sandry's bed. Briar hesitated, then walked closer.

It was Sandry's night light! She would never go anywhere without it. For her to not have it, it must mean… Briar's imagination kicked into overdrive, all kinds of horrible possibilities flooded his mind.

Just as he turned to dash from the room, he saw an envelope on the desk. Picking it up, he saw it had the word 'Uncle' in Sandry's neat handwriting. Without thinking, Briar tore it open and a single piece of paper slipped out.

_Dearest Uncle,_

_I'm afraid I can no longer be happy with living the life of a noble. It is cowardly to run from my problems, I know, but I have to do this. I'm tired of living a life set out for me._

_I beg you to understand and to forgive me._

_Your niece,_

_Sandry. _

Briar gaped at the note in disbelief.

She was gone.

A/N: Whoa. Didn't see that one coming. Review and let me know what think of my story!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Because I haven't said it before, thank you to all who reviewed, they were very much appreciated. Some of you have asked me if this is a B/S fic. Well I ws hoping to make it a SURPRISE but I guess I won't anymore. Yes, I will somehow turn this thing into a B/S fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own CoM. I don't own the country of Lairan, but I do own the details about it and all I feel like making up.

Sandry stopped her horse by the bank of a stream. Surrounded by ancient trees, it was a decent place to stop and rest. She unbuckled the girth and slid the saddle off of her mount.

The mare was a small, but nimble chestnut, with a beautiful dished face and brown eyes that glittered intelligently. Sandry had found her in the market among a string of other horses for sale and fell in love with her instantly. She'd decided to call her _Janah_,trader-talk for 'thread'.

Eagerly the horse shook and rolled in the soft grass of the stream bank, snorting in pleasure.

Once Janah was attended to, Sandry squinted at the fading evening light. She would only have a few hours before she had to press on. Though she had made good time, she was just outside the village of Mersow, halfway to Emelan's northern border.

Sandry knelt on the ground, spreading a map out. She had decided to head for the country of Lairan, a relatively peaceful, mountainous country. In the many travels she had gone on with her parents, Sandry had spent some time there, and had a general idea of the culture.

Sandry charted out the remainder of her journey, then tucked the map away and stood. Taking a spool of thread, she laid it out in a circle around her camp, laying protection spells in it. No use taking chances.

Finally, exhausted, Sandry curled up in her bedroll. She did not, as she had expected to, fall asleep easily. Thoughts plagued her mind; worries about her decision, memories of her foster-sisters. Sandry deliberately thrust those of Briar away from her. No use getting herself all worked up again. But she _would_ show him. She was good for more than marriage.

A/N: Really short, sorry. I'll try to get the next chapter out quickly to make up for it. I have a habit of adding too much detail, so please give me some feed back. Too much detail, just enough, you like the plot, you want it to go faster, whatever you can think up!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This one's back in the Duke's Citadel with Briar… I kind like the way it turned out, but what do you guys think?

Disclaimer— didn't own, still don't own, and prolly never will own.

The Duke's forehead creased with worry as he read and reread the note Briar had thrust at him. The boy now paced the room, muttering curses and running hand after hand through his already mussed hair. Never had the man seen him so unsettled. Tris and Daja looked deep in thought, most likely communicating through their extraordinary mind link.

Reading Sandry's parting words once more; Duke Vedris sighed and put it down on the table. Briar looked up, his face feverishly displaying several emotions at once.

"So how many troops will you send out?" he asked.

There was a prolonged silence in which the aging man weighed his reply. Better to come out straight with this boy, he thought. "None," he answered quietly.

"Good, then I go tell he sergeant to get them—_none_!" Sputtering a moment Briar lost his voice. He found it quickly. "What do you mean none! Sandry's missing, we have to find her, something could—someone might—she—." Briar quieted at a calming gesture from the Duke.

"Sandry wants to make a life of her own. I can hardly force her to come back, you should know as well as I that she would be miserable. As hard as it is, I believe the only thing I can do is pray and have faith in her strength." A dead silence came over the room.

"Miserable?" Briar finally choked out, his voice cracking. Whirling around he glared at Daja and Tris, still seated at the table with the Duke. "You're just going to let her go? We have to go after her!" Tris looked at him coolly from behind her spectacles.

"And just how do you propose we do that, Briar Moss? If you checked her tie to you, you'll find she has completely blocked us out. Not to mention that, if I'm right, she's had a day and a half head start and we don't know where she's headed. We'd never find her."

"Tris is right," Daja said softly. "And you know Sandry. She'd only hate you all the more if you tried to make her come back. I believe in my _saati_." Briar looked from face to face, feeling trapped.

"Fine. So Sandry's gone… forever." And with that he stomped from the room desperately trying to control his emotions. Briar half-ran through the stone halls, his own words from the night before haunting him.

'_What are nobles good for?'_

'…_nuthin…' _

'…_to the highest bidder…' _

Stumbling blindly, Briar sought refuge in the only place that could bring him comfort. He tripped and fell onto the rich earth, desperately asking for the simple happiness of the plants around him. Turning to lay flat on his back in the garden, Briar gently gripped two of the stems closest to him as others hurried to wind their way around his limbs, draping cool leaves on his face. All Briar could think of was Sandry and associate her with the one word he never thought he would.

_Gone._

A/N: Remember, I still need those opinions! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here's another one. It's a little longer than the others so I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, you get it? Abso-freakin-lutely nothing!

Sandry swept through the crowded room balancing several drinks on a tray. It was a difficult skill to learn, but after several lessons of the severe posture of nobles, grace was not a problem for her.

There were so many people; from the off duty soldiers singing merrily, to the poor heartbroken saps trying to drown themselves in their mugs, to the traveling families with children and pets alike crawling about on the floor. Side stepping one such toddler, Sandry made it to the bar where a middle age woman was preparing drinks. She was short and stocky, with strong arms and broad shoulders. Brown curly hair was tamed into a loose bun at the back of her head, revealing a round face. Hazel eyes, set over a straight nose, observed the world around her sharply and were softened by a wide laughing mouth and flush cheeks. The woman wore a simple but comfortable dress of lavender, with a linen shift and apron. Well used leather boots laced up to her ankles.

Sandry put her tray on the bar top and unloaded empty mugs. "Kellen, I need 3 pints, a round of shots, 2 bottles of travelers' wine, and an ox to carry it all." Kellen grinned and patted Sandry's shoulder in mock sympathy.

"You're doing quite fine on your own, dearie," she said, then busied herself with drink preparations.

With a heavy sigh Sandry settled herself on a stool, wiping her hands on her apron. It was her second night of real work, and it was hard to get used to. She had come to the Border Tavern a week ago, and had settled in rather nicely. Kellen, part owner with her husband Ben, had taken Sandry in and offered her a job. After a few days of dish duty and being shown the ropes, she was ready to take on full time serving.

"Where's Ben?" Sandry asked as Kellen handed her the loaded tray.

"In the kitchen with Sam unloadin' the latest shipment of supplies." Sam Gebber was cook and longtime friend of Ben and Kellen. He was a big man who could curse like a sailor; he had become a good friend of Sandry's in the past few days, regaling her with tales of his days as a soldier in the war. How he went from soldier to tavern cook, Sandry had still yet to discover.

Hitching the tray up on her hip, Sandry waved to Kellen and continued serving.

A few hours later, the main room was emptying, customers off to their rooms or stumbling home. Yawning, Sandry went from table to table, collecting table scraps from the plates and dumping them in a wooden bucket. Once she was done with that, she hauled it out back to the pigpen and dumped it in the feed trough. The pigs woke from their slumber with a grunt and jostled each other for the closest spot, munching away. Sandry paused before going back in, leaning on the fence and looking up at the stars. Without meaning to, she found herself thinking about the family she had left behind. She missed them terribly (even Briar, she grudgingly admitted to herself) and wondered if they missed her at all. Sandry didn't regret her decision, no, this needed to be done, but she wondered if she'd ever see them again… Tris with her flashing temper, Daja with her good sense and patience, Briar with his wicked humor and startling green eyes, his teasing smile, soft black hair, strong arms… Sandry stood abruptly, breaking that line of thought, and blushed deep red. What on earth was she thinking! Briar was like a brother to her, right? He infuriated her, right? Right? Nobody answered her thoughts, which actually surprised Sandry, she was so used to holding conversations in her head with the others. Which led to her thinking of Briar all over again.

Sighing, Sandry slumped back on the fence and absentmindedly twirled a short lock of hair around her finger. Vaguely she wondered if she should start drinking whiskey, then pushed that out of her mind. She just needed sleep. And time to sort this out. That's it. In the morning, the thought of me and Briar… Sandry blushed… will seem silly.

Sandry pushed off the fence again and reached for her bucket. Suddenly a hand closed around her own. Rough and dirty, it jerked her forward and she fell against a man's chest. Alcohol clouded her senses as it was breathed onto her face and Sandry felt the need to gag. Looking up revealed the red bearded face of a drunk Ben had kicked out of the tavern last night.

"'ello there, pretty," he leered curving an arm around Sandry's waist. She stared at him waiting for some defensive instinct to kick in. It was clear of the man's intention's and the thought caused fear to rush through her, scattering her brain to the point that she couldn't react at all. "I saw ye last nigh', I did. Ye look like a girly who likes a bit o' fun." He gave a coughing laugh and pushed her against the wall of the building. One hand reached for laces of her dress as the drunk pressed his lips onto hers.

Sandry completely froze up.

He's going to rape me, she thought vaguely, and I can't do a thing about it. Sandry didn't even realize that she had started screaming.

A/N: sorry to leave it off with such a bad cliffie… I know im evil…well there was a bit of B/S in here, don't worry, there will be plenty of fluffy goodness in the future. remember I love reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I have a reason that I took a bit longer to update this time. I needed to do a Briar chapter cause I've got this Briar, Sandry, Briar, Sandry thing goin and I didn't wanna screw with that but I knew the tomatoes would be flyin if I didn't do something about that cliffie. So….. I posted 2 chapters at the same time! Yes, I know both are bit short, but work with me here ppl! Thanks for the reviews, they inspire me to make marvelous works art.

Disclaimer: I cannot make marvelous works of art.

Briar Moss stood solemnly in the front courtyard of the Duke's citadel. Over his shoulder he had slung a travel pack of spare clothes and other things he'd need in his travels.

Pulling the girth of his horse's saddle tight, Briar turned to the people standing behind him. Tris and Daja, Lark and Rosethorn, even the duke himself had turned up for his farewell. All had varying expressions on their faces according to the way they conveyed emotions. Tris, who didn't like to express what she considered 'soft' feelings, had turned her sadness into anger and frustration. Daja, calmly watched as Briar finished preparations, preferring to let her silence berate him for leaving. Lark, already distressed after Sandry had disappeared, worriedly twisted her handkerchief in her hands while Rosethorn, who was as prickly as her name led people to believe, could not stop her sharp mouth from twisting into a nervous frown. Duke Vedris simply watched Briar, wondering at how fate had driven two people who cared so much about one another so far apart.

Briar shifted uneasily, he hated sappy moments like this. He didn't really want to leave them; he preferred to grow roots among them till he was old and withered. But ever since Sandry had left, the once safe stone walls had grown oppressive, smothering. Before he went completely mad, Briar had decided to travel. If he couldn't go looking directly for Sandry, maybe he could just wander around and stumble across her. At the very least it would get him out of the citadel.

And so here he was. Standing awkwardly in front of his family. Well, the closest thing he would probably ever have to it.

"Well, I'm going to go now," he announced, rubbing the back of his neck. He got a hug from his foster sisters, though Tris huffed and still looked irritated. Lark practically squeezed all the air from his lungs, and then clucked at him like a mother hen, dusting off his shirt and smoothing his wayward dark hair. Rosethorn clamped a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye a moment, then swept him into a rough, one-armed hug. Shock caused Briar to hesitate, then he wrapped his arms around his old teacher. Oh man, he was going to lose it soon. Coughing slightly, Rosethorn backed away, steel gaze back in place.

Briar blinked rapidly, then turned to the duke. He had stood with his hands clasped behind his back, but now he released one and held it out to Briar.

"You know," Duke Vedris said quietly as Briar shook his hand, "leaving won't bring her back." Briar looked up for a moment, squinting at the sun climbing in the sky. He met the man's eyes once more.

"I know," he said simply. Then with a nod Briar pulled himself up into the saddle.

"Briar," Daja's voice stopped him. He paused and she came forward, taking something from her pocket. It was Sandry's nightlight. She put the stone in his saddle bag, then tied it securely. "You need it more than we do." Briar nodded again, but said nothing. Turning his horse, he trotted out of the gate, turning onto the main road heading out of the city. Even though at the present he knew exactly where he was, Briar felt more lost then ever.

A/N: Alright, I know this was a tad slow, but I tried really hard to make it the characters match canon and all that. I suppose it was a bit of a character sketch for each of them, my version of their reactions. Whatcha think?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Here we are back with Sandry--- enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm to tired to think of a clever disclaimer at the moment: I do not own Circle of Magic.

_Do something!_ Sandry yelled at herself. It was infuriating and terrifying, the thought that this… man could do whatever he wanted to her.

Suddenly, the back door banged open and light flooded the yard. Ben stood in the doorway, a long knife in his hand. The drunk wheeled away from Sandry, and without him to hold her up against the wall, she crumpled into a half-sitting position, feeling numb relief.

"Step away from my serving girl, Rogers." Ben's grey eyes, normally shining with mischief and good humor, were cold steel, his jaw set with anger. The drunk spit haphazardly, half of it landing on himself, while he struggled to stay upright.

"Now this be none of yer business. You has your tavern wench ter play wi', and now I got mine," he concluded, beaming with his good logic, and turned back to Sandry. Ben growled at this crude mention of Kellen and launched himself at Rogers, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. Sandry whimpered and scooted farther down the wall. Knife to throat, Ben lifted Rogers slightly.

"If you ever come near my tavern again, if you ever hurt my serving maids, or any woman for that matter, I'll beat you so hard you'll wish I'd kill ya." Ben didn't shout; it wasn't necessary. His low dangerous tones got the message across easily enough. Rogers nodded his grizzled head up-down-up-down so fast he nearly banged his head on the wall behind him.

Disgusted, Ben thrust him away, the drunk scrambled up and out of the yard, mumbling 'yes sir' over and over again.

Sandry shuddered and hugged herself tighter. Rubbing the back of his neck, Ben peered at her.

"You need to learn proper defense. I won't be around every time a bastard like Rogers comes around. You'll learn with the rest tomorrow morning." With that he held out his hand for her. Sandry hesitated a moment, then accepted it, and he hauled her to her feet. "You gonna be okay?" Sandry turned these words over in her head a moment. What terrified her most was not Rogers' drunken advances, but the fact that she couldn't seem to do anything against it. If she learned defense, maybe…. Sandry nodded.

"I will be. I hope." Ben smiled crookedly at her and she returned it weakly. Then he threw a comforting arm over her shoulders.

"Then come, m'dear. I'm sure my delightful little wife will grace us with one of her delicious meals." Sandry grimaced and Ben chuckled. While amazing when it came to drinks, Kellen was a miserable cook. They entered the main room to find Kellen sleeping at one of the tables. "Ah well," Ben said shamefaced, "one can dream." And with that, Sandry erupted into giggles that woke slumbering Kellen.

A/N: sigh. I love my characters. Do you? (short I know, but more exciting in chapters to come!)


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Beware of a time jump.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tamora Pierce wrote. But I do own Jack. And I am proud to say that I came up with the Trader song. Unless of course you think it sucks. If so I have no idea how it got there...

_

* * *

Two years later…_

On the hottest day of summer the dusty, wide dirt road to Lairan was empty save one traveler. He was a tall fellow, perhaps eighteen years old, and lean, with hard, ropey muscles beneath his sun-browned skin. Dark curls, a bit too long for his liking, tumbled into his green eyes. Normally shining with good humor, those eyes now were dull and flat with exhaustion, eyelids drooping over them.

It had been three days since he had left Qalai and since then he stopped only once for a few hour's restless sleep. The road he was on was known for its bandits, and he refused to let them get any of his precious shakkans, which were at the moment tucked carefully first in baskets, then into the large saddlebags on the back of his crotchety mule, Jack.

This traveler was of course Briar Moss, the famous plant mage, one of the peculiar children who had been in the fabled 'Circle of Magic'.

Briar pulled Jack to a stop and unpacked a bit of food and his water flask. Chewing thoughtfully, he gave a carrot to the mule. He had been on the road for the better part of two years, stopping here and there, and selling shakkans when he needed the money. At the present, Briar had no idea why he couldn't simply go home to Summersea. He had left to get away for a while, and in hopes of finding Sandry, who he had stupidly driven away because he couldn't fess up to his real feelings. Now he just seemed to have a _need_ to keep moving; as soon as he stayed anyplace for more than a week or two he would become restless, wary, and irritable. A number of friendships were made and broken simply because he couldn't be content to sit still.

As for Sandry… nothing. In every city, everywhere he went, Briar would look for her and always he would come back empty handed. Even, if he allowed himself to admit this, a bit empty-hearted.

Tris and Daja, who he kept in touch with whether mentally or through letters, were patient with him, and didn't ask him to come home, only told him the door was open if he needed it. It meant a lot to Briar, much more than they could know.

Swigging from the flask a final time, he tucked it back in on of the bags and started Jack forward again. The mule brayed loudly causing Briar to jump and let out a stream of his best curses.

"Come on Jackie, none of that!" And with a yank on the lead rope, they were off again.

A little more awake thanks to the food, Briar hummed the tune from a Trader folk song that he had learned when he had traveled with a group to Sotat.

_Glittering gold, majas a plenty,_

_Ledgers and numbers, the riches of life_

_Never say Traders are silly to travel_

_We take to the road while you live with your strife. _

Finally, around the fifth verse, a tavern came into view. Smoke rose from the chimney, and a barn stood out back.

"See Jackie, I told you I knew where we were going," Briar said cheerfully. The mule snorted and tossed his head, eager for the barn.

After seeing to Jack and carefully unloading the shakkans, Briar grabbed his pack and walked to the front of the building. A sign was nailed over the door, naming the place 'the Border Tavern'. With a shrug Briar opened the door and walked in, drooling over the thought of a good cooked meal.

* * *

A/N: duh duh dun… can _you_ remember where Sandry was working? Paths may be crossed very soon… Hehe, hope you liked it! (Remember, reviews make me happy and guilt me into updating!) 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: hey, sorry, major writer's block, but today i suddenly got all kinds of inspiration. So here's (what i think) my longest and greatest chapter! hope you like it--

Disclaimer: i didnt own, i dont own, and i prolly will never own. sigh---

It was early. Earlier than usual. Too early to even think about being awake. So decided the mind of the young woman slumped on the bar of the Border Tavern. The sky was hidden in the predawn darkness; candles, lanterns, and the roaring fireplace were the only sources of light.

Long light brown eyelashes fluttered shut, hiding her bright cornflower blue eyes. Sun-streaked brown hair hung to her shoulders, a splash of freckles ran over her cheeks and nose. She had a neat figure, shapely enough to draw a man's eyes but not a woman's disapproval. Hidden beneath the sleeves and skirts of her blue cotton dress the girl's arms and legs were strong from hours of defense classes as well as carrying serving trays and buckets.

"Sorry lass, sleep time is over." Blinking sleepily, Sandraline fa Toren was able to bring the smirking face of Ben into focus. Looking unnaturally cheerful for being up before dawn, the man balanced a knife hilt on his forefinger while wiping the bar down with his other hand.

Sandry shook her head with an exasperated grin. Really, the things one can pick up working in a tavern. Already in the past two years, she learned how to juggle five beer bottles, throw a dagger, play all sorts of poker games and win every hand, swear in several different languages, and hold her liquor longer than any man. Sandry winced at the last one, remembering the interesting nights she had trying to reach that goal. Ben and Kellen had taken care of her of course, with severe lectures and plenty of laughs at her expense. They seemed to be unaffected by the strange behavior of the clothes and other threads around them, though once Ben had to run, cursing, out of the room half naked while Kellen followed him, crying in her mirth and gathering up his dancing garments. It had been dishes for a week after that one, and a lot of mending.

Ben grinned and wobbled a bit, pretending to lose control of his knife. Sandry leaned back and glared at him.

"Why, again, am I up? Surely it wasn't to be skewered by the likes of you." Ben chuckled and flipped the knife, palming it and sheathing it quicker than Sandry could blink.

"Hottest day of the year darlin'," he drawled, tossing the rag into a nearby bucket and handing her a bucket. "Chores done before the sun bakes us." Sandry groaned, but took the bucket, heading to the garden out back to gather greens for the day.

When the bucket was generously full she stood, then stilled for a moment. A shiver passed through her, though the humidity closed on her like a woolen blanket. A flash of green blinked in her mind, then was gone. After a moment of puzzling over it, Sandry shrugged and went in the kitchen door.

Things were well under way, cook fires roaring, good smells of all kinds hung in the air. Sam was by the hot-oven, taking out the morning's fresh bread. Sandry waved.

"Well goo' mornin', lassie! 'magine, findin' yens up 'n out 'afore the sun." Sandry smiled at the large man and sighed dramatically.

"Trust me, I wouldn't be up and out if it weren't for that slave master, Ben."

"That's Sir slave-master to you!" Ben himself stuck his head in the swinging door. "Sam, how's the bread coming? Guests' will be down soon." Sam laughed and waved a hand at Ben.

"Jus' a mo', it's still risin'." Ben nodded and withdrew his head. Sandry took her bucket and went over to sit by the other, quieter members of the staff. Kellen, the opposite of her husband when it came to early mornings, sat on the floor with a peeling knife and a carrot in her hand. She moaned softly.

"He's so… happy." Sandry shook her head in mock-sympathy. Ever since they had taken her in, she had come to love Ben and Kellen like family. The two were so perfect for each other, and their humor seemed never ending. They were also prone to taking in misfits and making them feel at home. One such misfit was Sandry herself.

Another example sat slumped next to Kellen, snoring softly, a forgotten water bucket and scrub brush beside her. A potato was perched between her knee and cheek, forming a pillow.

"She's allowed to sleep?" Sandry whined, then picked up the scrub brush and began cleaning the greens she had just brought in. Kellen just grunted and elbowed the girl beside her.

Ollie jerked her head up, dark brown eyes opened wide. "I'm awake," she muttered, rubbing dirt from the potato off her face. Her skin, a rich chocolate, was smooth and flawless; her face was round and sensual, lips full and lashes long. Black curly hair framed her face, making her a vision for any man. A year younger than Sandry's eighteen, the Ollie served with her and was loud and vivacious… at least she when she was conscious.

Sandry grinned. "Late night with Alec?" she asked innocently. Alec was Ollie's latest male interest. An adamant believer in love and passion, Ollie went through men quicker than any girl Sandry knew, claiming each one was her one and only, then moving on before their rent was up. However Alec seemed as different as the love sick girl claimed him to be. He was an apprentice carpenter in the town just a couple of miles from the tavern, and the two have been sneaking off to see each other for the past few months. There had even been talk of marriage, though Ollie wasn't sure if she was ready.

"Don't mock me because you have the passion of a stone," she snapped. Sandry only rolled her eyes. Ollie had been trying to introduce Sandry to the men who come to the tavern, but Sandry didn't have much interest. She just didn't have time in her life for love, she didn't even know anyone she could really have a relationship with—Sandry stiffened as the green flashed in her mind again. What _was_ that? With a little more difficulty, Sandry was able to forget about it. A snore next to her made Sandry jump. Ollie was asleep again.

The main room was filled with travelers trying to escape the heat. Bustling from table to table, Sandry stopped briefly to drink water from the ladle Kellen handed her. It had been like that all morning, the fact that it was midday made things all the worse.

Shoving her tray onto the bar, Ollie nudged Sandry. "There's a man at table three who needs service," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief. Sandry looked to where she was pointing. Table three was a corner table, slightly away from the crowd. At it sat a lanky man- or boy, she guessed, around her own age- with curly black hair and green eyes. He was bored, lazily balancing a knife on his finger just as Ben had done. Something about him seemed familiar, so familiar; she had seen someone else doing that, showing off… Suddenly the air was sucked out of Sandry's lungs. No, no, it wasn't possible, it couldn't be, she had to be imagining--- _Briar?_

But it was him, all grown up… so grown up and handsome, with muscled arms and tousled hair and- NO! He had been the one who had hurt her, chased her away, he… meant a lot more to her than she would admit to herself.

Ollie gave her a knowing grin. "Handsome, huh?" Sandry barely heard her, instead she began to panic. She absolutely couldn't let Briar see her, he would recognizer her, he would take her back; she would have to be a noble again! "Well?" Ollie asked impatiently. "Get to it!" She motioned wildly.

"N-no, no, no, Ollie you have to take this one for me, please!" Ollie growled in exasperation.

"I don't think so, he looks perfectly nice, and you will go- talk- to-HIM!" she exclaimed as she shoved Sandry towards the table. Finally, only a few feet away from the table, Sandry gave up and, taking the tray from Ollie, glared at her.

With dread she walked to the table. Stepping up so she was behind Briar and her face in shadow, she cleared her throat. In a small, breathy voice that could in no way be identified with her own, Sandry asked, "What'll it be, sir?" Briar turned and set down the knife, giving her a tired smile. Sandry lowered her head so that her hair hung in her face. Briar squinted at her, as if he couldn't see her clearly.

"Do I know you?" he asked. Sandry stiffened.

"No, sir, I'm quite sure you don't, sir." she replied, adding as many sirs as she could and smirking inside at his grimace. Briar's face fell and he shrugged.

"Oh. Well I guess I'll just have--." A loud crash cut through the noise, Sandry whirled her head to look at the source of the racket. Ollie kneeled nearby over a mess of dishes, apologizing and cleaning it up, but all the while looking pointedly at Sandry. Sandry knew that look- _You can do better than that_. Sandry sighed, fed up with her 'encouragement'.

Unfortunately, the distraction made Sandry forget her charade. A gasp behind her made Sandry closed her eyes. _Damn._ Slowly, she turned back to Briar.

His eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened. In fact, he bore a resemblance to the fish they were serving that night. Sandry would have appreciated the humor better had her life not been crumbling around her.

"S-Sandry?" he gasped, "What're, wha- why?" Finally, he got a full sentence out. "Is it really you?" Hmm… not the most intelligent full sentence. Sandry put on a forced smile.

"So you'll be having the fish? Good, now excuse me I have many tables to serve." And with that she turned on her heel and walked away. Behind her Briar scrambled out of his chair.

"Now whoa, wait Sandry!" He grabbed her wrist. Jerking her arm away, Sandry stopped.

"Leave me alone, Briar."

"Look, Duchess, we gotta talk." At the sound of her old nickname, Sandry whirled on him.

"Never call me that again!" she hissed. "I'm not a duchess. I don't want to talk. I think you talked enough last time I saw you, plant mage." Briar stiffened, as if he'd been slapped, and looked at the floor.

"Duch- er- Sandry, about that, I can explain-." Sandry laughed derisively.

"Oh, you can explain? Alright, why you start by explaining why you insulted and yelled at me. Then, you can explain why you drove me away. And while you're at it, GO JUMP IN A LAKE! You hurt me Briar Moss, and I DON'T think 'I'm sorry' is going to cover it!" By the time she had finished her rant, Sandry realized two things. One: she was yelling- loudly. Two: the entire room had gone completely silent and everyone was staring at them. Cheeks flaming red and tears in her eyes, Sandry turned from the gaping Briar, stared long and hard at Ollie, and, back completely straight, walked out of the room.

A/N: you like? review and let me know! o and 2 things- 1) i know that the mages arent sposed to drink but you saw the results. as she got better at holding her liquor, the magic part calmed down too. 2) i'm kind of bad with writing accents or whatever so sorry if Sam sounds odd. oh and in case you guys didnt figure it out, the green flashes were Sandry feeling Briar coming. uh... thats it i guess!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Now we find ourselves reaching the climax of the story. Prolly just a chapter two longer as far as I can tell. Hope you like this chapter- not quite as long as the last one, but just as entertaining. And we are closing in on B/S, don't worry! Oh and I realized last chapter that I made an age mistake. The way the story's going, I wanna keep them at 18 years old, so if we could all pretend they were 16 when they had the fight, that'd be great. Thank you!

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue. I no own, so you no sue!

The sound of the kitchen door slamming echoed in the silence. Briar stared at the door, not quite comprehending what had happened. His ears buzzed, his mind was struggling with the fact that at long last, he had found her. Sandry, the girl who had been haunting his mind for years.

Not aware of the eyes glued to him, Briar stumbled back and collapsed in his abandoned chair. Slowly the buzzing died down and turned to roaring as he realized what Sandry had said. She wanted nothing to do with him! All that time on the road had given Briar chance to daydream of what would happen when he finally found Sandry.

Needless to say in those dreams he was always a bit more eloquent and she was definitely more… happy. But when the moment came, Briar froze. And now here he was, amidst the now whispering audience of the tavern, watching the door swing shut on his duchess.

Briar gave a strangled, hopeless laugh. Amazing.

A throat cleared behind him. Turning, Briar saw the girl who had dropped the platter standing behind him. A fresh tray was in her hands carrying two mugs of ale. Behind her, at the bar, Briar noticed a tall, sandy-haired man. He didn't take his eyes off Briar as he casually wiped a glass clean. Briar tensed a bit, not liking the kind of attention he was getting. He looked innocent enough, but the man seemed to be staring at him with a mix of intense suspicion and dislike that seemed to burn up the air between them.

The girl followed his gaze. "Um, that's Ben. He owns this place." Plunking her tray down, the girl took a seat across from Briar. "He's wondering what we all are. Who are you, and what have you done to upset our girl so much?" Briar looked up at her. She was a pretty thing, her chin rounded in mulish determination. She must have the boys scrambling after her, and her not a day older than his foster sisters. A flare of white in his mind brought him back to the questions. They had been happening a lot the past few days; he had wondered why, but now assumed it was because he was getting closer to Sandry. Their magical connection, so strong before, seemed to be fighting the wall now dividing the two of them.

Briar sighed and idly picked up the mug. Normally he would avoid spirits at all costs; they did funny things with his magic, but now… Briar just wanted to forget.

"Briar Moss," he muttered after a harsh mouth full of the ale. It was bitter, not easy on his throat, but warm. It made him feel a little better. The girl nodded.

"Ollie," she returned curtly. Briar waited a bit, then realized he still hadn't answered the second question. He took a third long swig, grimacing.

"I… know Sandry. She left while back. We had a fight." He gazed at the closed door opposite of him, marveling at the understatement of his words.

"Apparently she still holds a grudge," Ollie commented wryly.

Another swig, another grimace.

"You think?" Briar was beginning to feel light headed. So much more relaxed, loose. And beneath that, a crushing, overwhelming sadness. There was no more ale in his glass.

Startled, and more than a little drunk, Briar stared at the bottom of the glass which was not filled with any sort of liquid. "It- it's gone!" he said in wonder.

Ollie rolled her eyes and pushed the neglected mug towards him. He gave a gleeful laugh and began downing that one, babbling nonsense in between swallows. Ollie tried, without success, to get more information out of him, but it was useless. She had never seen a man get so drunk so quickly before. Unnoticed to her, or any other person in the room, the plants began to move. First, the old flower in the corner that Kellen had been nursing along bloomed full and youthful. Then the ivy climbing up the trellis crept in through the window. Pretty soon buds erupted across the wooden floorboards and began growing in earnest.

Darting through the kitchen, Sandry took the steps two at a time as she ran to her room. The tears she had managed to hold in till now began spilling down her cheeks. Once she reached her room, Sandry stopped just short of falling on her bed. No. Last time she had done that, she had run away from the only home she knew. Briar would not drive her away from this place. Instead, Sandry turned and sat primly on her bed, trying to calm herself down.

A quiet knock interrupted her efforts. Kellen walked into the room, closing the door behind her. Hastily Sandry wiped her tears away. It was no use. With Kellen's concerned, motherly gaze on her, Sandry broke down all over again.

Kellen sat next to Sandry and pull her into an embrace, rubbing her back and murmuring comforts. Finally, the flow ebbed; Sandry sat up and took Kellen's offered handkerchief.

"That boy hurt you?" Kellen asked as Sandry wiped her face clean.

"Yes," Sandry croaked, then sighed. "Well, a little. I suppose he doesn't know how much." Kellen nodded in understanding.

"He hurt you here." Kellen placed a hand over her own heart. After a moment, Sandry nodded. She wanted so bad to tell Kellen everything, to let it out. But what would she think, finding out Sandry was a noble? She remembered over the passed two years, how these people had welcomed her in, taken care of her, made her family. Sandry swallowed hard, knowing she was risking everything.

"Kellen there's something else…" And with that, Sandry began telling her story, starting back when, so long ago, Niko had found her in that dark locked room. Kellen listened, saying nothing, but gasping appropriately when Sandry told her of the earthquake, pirates, forest fires, and plague, and chuckling when Sandry reminisced of the amusing things Little Bear would do.

Finally, Sandry reached the weeks of suitors and balls when Briar grew distant, nasty, irritated. Emotions from that time clouded around Sandry once again, as she remembered how much his comments had stung.

"… so I got on Janah, and road away. Then I found this place." Sandry ended with a helpless shrug. Kellen remained silent, and Sandry panicked. "I'm really sorry, I know I shouldn't have lied to you, but you wouldn't have treated me the same! Please, please, don't send me away!" Kellen turned to Sandry, indignant shock on her face.

"Sandry, or whoever you are, you've been with us for two long years. If you hadn't learned by now that you're part of our family, then you must not know us as well as I thought!" In a gentler tone she went on, "Know this. As long you need us, we'll be right here for you." Sandry smiled weakly at her, happy beyond belief. Kellen clapped her hands, suddenly brisk. "Now as for this Briar Moss of yours, I might know why he turned so snappish on you. When these suitors came, I think he might have been a tad bit jeal-."

A crash and screaming interrupted her. Sandry and Kellen stared at each other a moment, then scrambled up and took off for the stairs. The kitchen was abandoned as they hurtled through and when Sandry yanked open the door to the main room, the two froze in their tracks.

"What on earth!"

A/N: teehee, what do you think happened? And, I know Briar got drunk REALLY fast, but he never had alcohol before and… well I just needed him drunk, so there. Heh, it was pretty fun writing that actually- hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Remember, I need your feedback. Comments, concerns, ideas… lay 'em on me! So that means review, review, review!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I'm gonna switch it up a bit. As Briar is not exactly thinking coherently at the moment, this chapter is going to be in Sandry's point of view, breaking my pattern. So read on my loyal, er, readers!

Disclaimer: If you haven't realized I don't own Circle of Magic yet, then you REALLY haven't been paying attention.

Chaos.

The main room, normally neat and orderly, had transformed into a living forest; vines weaving every which way and saplings stretching to the ceiling. Those customers who couldn't make it the door were hopelessly clawing off the flowers that persistently bloomed on them. Ben was struggling to free himself from a bush that seemed quite attached to him while Sam and Ollie tried, without much success, to help.

And on top of the one remaining table, laughing hysterically with a half empty mug of ale in his hand was Briar. A really drunk Briar.

For a moment, all Sandry could do was stand in the doorway gaping. Kellen had no such qualms. Brushing past Sandry, she ran over to where Ben continued his floral battle. Something tickled Sandry's hand. A small vine was reaching up to her, encircling her wrist. Gently she unwound it and followed after Kellen. A crying Ollie rushed to Sandry, jumping over a clump of weaving clover.

"What happened!" Sandry shouted over the din. Poor Ollie could only shake her head and mouth wordlessly, terrified of the plant's strange behavior and the obvious magic behind it. Sandry glanced over her shoulder at Briar, who was now dancing among the plants, amazingly nimble for one so intoxicated. "You got him drunk?" Sandry guessed, incredulous. Ollie managed to nod and found her voice.

"W-we wanted t'know who he was and why you were mad!" she cried. Sandry groaned in frustration.

"Alright, alright, I'll handle this!" And with that, she pushed Ollie back to Kellen and went to the center of the room.

Rubbing her temples, Sandry struggled to call back everything about her magic that she had tried to keep away. Like slipping into her own skin, Sandry felt her magic surround her. The connections to Tris, Daja, and Briar, once dull and gray, blazed in her mind.

Ignoring the fact that the fabric of her dress was alive and quivering, Sandry desperately sorted through the wild ball of magic inside of her. It was a hopeless tangle, one that would take weeks to organize, but that would come later.

For now she grasped a bit of that magic and sent into the vines around her. _Threads._ she thought, _they're just like threads._ Distantly feeling the sweat beading on her forehead, Sandry went to work commanding the vines. She couldn't do anything about their growth, she was no plant mage, but she could command their movement. For now, she set them to weaving among themselves on the floor, rather then among people. Slowly but surely, the vines began to, leaving astonished customers in their wake.

The other flowers soon joined in, actually making a pattern in the rapidly growing weave. Ben's bush let him go and started arranging itself into a border, as the ending vines stretched to attach to it. Soon all the plants were in on the project. Sandry felt herself growing tired, it was much harder commanding plants than cloth, and she was all out of shape with her magic. The old Sandry, awakened with her magic, was disgusted by how sloppy she was.

Sandry finished her project with a flourish and looked around. The plants now resembled a work on the loom, bright and cheery in the middle of the destroyed room. Ben, Kellen, Sam, and Ollie stood near it, alternating between staring at Sandry and the work beside them. Customers, some of them drunk themselves were clumped in the corners of the room, a couple still sporting flowers. They stared as well. The room was dead silent except for Briar who sat under the table, watching a flower grow and shrink at his will and giggling.

Exhausted, knowing that any attempt for things to go back to normal was ruined now, Sandry walked over to Briar and tugged him out from under the table, and staggering at his weight, half dragged him out of the room and up the stairs.

Uttering a few choice curse words that Briar had taught her years ago, Sandry felt her strength leave her as she and Briar toppled onto the bed. Sitting up, Sandry gazed at the man she had known so long, who she once knew so well. She had loved him. Sandry knew that now. And that thought made her heart ache in a way she had never felt before.

Rubbing her eyes tiredly she muttered, "Oh Briar, why did you drink?" He should have known better. They had all had their experiments with liquor. It took Sandry two solid years to be able to drink without her magic. If she hadn't been there tonight he could have seriously hurt someone.

"Had to." Briar's croak startled Sandry. She hadn't been expecting an answer. "Hurt too much." This was new. Curious, Sandry looked up at him. He was still lying beside her on the bed, staring blearily over her left shoulder.

"What hurt Briar?" she asked, wondering if he had some wound she failed to notice. Clumsily, Briar patted at his chest. Over his heart. What?

"She doesn't like me anymore," he mumbled. Sandry's heart felt icy. So he had… found someone else. The very thought made a lump in her throat and made the ache three times worse. "I love her and she hates me." Sandry didn't want to hear anymore. Stumbling, she got off the bed and walked to the door as Briar whispered "Bad, bad, bad, bad," over and over again. Just as her hand reached the door, he wailed, "My duchess doesn't love me!" Sandry froze. Duchess… that was what he always called her. But he couldn't possibly mean--. Sandry turned.

"What did you say?" Briar looked up at her, green eyes foggy but still just as she remembered.

"I yelled at her. Never meant to—but, so many men were tryin' to take her 'way! Scared, scared, so scared." He broke off muttering incoherently. Sandry felt desperate, Briar had to be talking about their argument. What was Kellen going to say earlier? Briar was jealous?

Creeping to the edge of the bed, Sandry looked down at him. The eyes that stared back were dull, hopeless.

"I let her go," he whispered. "I drove her away."

"Who? Who did you drive away?" Sandry couldn't breathe. Her world had closed in on this moment. Moments dragged on for an eternity.

"Sandry." Briar's voice broke on her name. A wave of emotion crashed onto Sandry, dragging her down to her knees. She slowly scooted away from the bed till her back was to a corner. Silently, Sandry listened as Briar muttered to himself for a while, then to his even breathing as he fell asleep. She didn't even notice as the tears rolled down her cheeks, years worth of pain and longing released. One knee brought to her chest, leaning against the wall, she stared at the legs dangling off the bed, till finally her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep.

A/N: Bring on the B/S! Still tryin out the longer chapter thing. I also hope I got the whole BRIAR IS DRUNK thing right, y'know, talking and all that. Lemme know what you think! (By the way, I actually have NO idea of how long I'm gonna drag this story out, so no worries. The 'one more chappie' was complete and total non-truth!)


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: (walks out with head down and shields self with computer) Please don't kill me! I know it's been forever and a day since I updated, but I've been SO busy! I'm sorry!

Well, now that that's out of the way (ducks flying rock) here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tamora Pierce's work. However I do own a lovely kazoo which I purchased yesterday….MINE!

* * *

Bright sunlight filtered through the half shut windows. Blinking rapidly, Briar shifted his head out of a direct ray, his muscles feeling stiff and sore. His head thudded in a dull, aching pain; he felt magically drained. Somewhere below, a glass broke and the sound seared through Briar's mind.

Lifting his head, inch by slow, painful inch, Briar looked around. He was on a bed. Right. In a room. At the Tavern? Yes, he decided, the wood that called his name was the same as last night.

Last night… Strangely, his memory was sketchy at best. Straining, he remembered—the ale. Groaning, Briar cursed himself for even dreaming about thinking about letting a single drop of the cursed stuff down his sorry throat. But it seemed like such a good idea at the time. A way to forget. A way to forget… SANDRY!

Scrambling out of bed, Briar teetered for a moment as the room spun, then toppled over, every jarring sound and pain echoing in his mind.

Ouch.

Staying on the ground a second, Briar tried to cipher out what had happened the night before, all the while furiously trying to make the room stay in its original _fixed_ position.

He remembered the fight before he drank. Briefly a cloud of despair came over Briar as he remembered the hurt and anger in her blazing eyes, then he shook it away. A desperate conversation with someone… Sandry, he realized, it was she who had dragged him up here.

Suddenly Briar's blood ran cold. His face blanched as the details flooded his mind. Her face swimming above his, his aching heart ricocheting inside of him and pouring out of his mouth in stupid gibberish words… All those years of hiding his feelings and now they're all out in a tangle. Briar gritted his teeth. It was too late to do anything now. He'd just have knuckle down and face it like a man.

Gulping and giving himself some time to gather his courage, Briar pushed himself off the floor and stumbled out the door. The stairs were a bit of a challenge, but he managed to get down them without injury—well, not much injury anyway.

The noise of the kitchen caused him to stop short. Was life normally this _loud_? A large man stood in front of the hearth, eying a stew and muttering to himself about needing more carrots. A dark girl Briar vaguely remembered as Ollie and another woman- middle age with masses of brown curls- stood at a tall wooden table, chopping greens. They were talking quietly. When Ollie looked up and caught sight of Briar, her brown eyes widened fearfully. Without a word she dropped the knife and scampered out the door.

Watching her retreat, the woman paused in her chopping. Turning to Briar, she took in his raised eyebrow and bewildered expression.

"Don't give me that look," she quipped, moving to remove the kettle from the hearth and grabbing a cup, "You caused quite a disturbance last night." Briar pulled a stool over and sat on it. "I'm Kellen, by the way. Owner of this place with my husband, Ben." As he shook her hand, Briar recalled the image of a tall, sandy haired man.

"Briar Moss. Is Sandry around?" Briar asked hesitantly. Kellen carefully spooned crushed tea leaves into the cup and stirred.

"She's outside and seems fair distressed to me," she said, handing Briar the tea, "so you might want some of this before you go rushing out to her." Sniffing suspiciously, Briar eyed the seemingly innocent cup. Briar shrugged at Kellen's questioning glance.

"Last drink someone here gave me provided me with a splitting head ache and glorious mess to wake up to." Kellen nodded her head in a 'point taken' sort of way. Convinced that the tea was safe, Briar downed it and immediately noticed his headache subside. Nodding in thanks to Kellen, he set the cup on the table and walked out of the kitchen.

Besides the immediate hush of chatter at his entry, Briar noticed an intriguing masterpiece planted in the center of the room. And when he said planted, he meant _planted_. Eight feet tall if it was an inch, the trunk of it split and the branches formed a round frame and an assortment of vines and flowers were woven in some kind of design. Briar gave a low whistle. Must of taken a lot of magic for this little beauty. Kind of reminded him of something Sandry would do… if she worked with plants, that is.

It was at this point Briar noticed the eyes trained on him. The room wasn't crowded, but every person had their gaze locked on him, viewing him with suspicion and fear.

One pair of gray eyes looked familiar. It was Ben standing behind the counter. Briar uneasily wondered how much the man knew of him. With a grimace Ben jerked his head to the back door, inviting him to go out to Sandry.

Briar hesitated…he certainly wasn't making any friends in here. Nodding, Briar strode in between tables, wincing at the visible drawback of those near him, and darted out the door.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright light. Slowly, his vision cleared and the stable yard focused. Unsure of Sandry's exact location, he ambled into the stable and looked around. Jack stood contentedly in his stall, munching a mouthful of hay. Walking to him, Briar ran a hand down the mule's long nose.

"Good ol' Jack," Briar murmured. After seeing to his traveling companion, Briar curiously peeked at the other boarder's animals. Most were horses, though one particularly fine camel spat in Briar's face when he poked his head in its stall.

The last stall he came to held a beauty of a mare. Her face dished and muzzle dainty, she lipped at his shirt, a musical nicker rumbling in her throat. Briar tilted his head to the side, thinking. The mare seemed so familiar, he knew he'd seen her somewhere before. Something about her dark chestnut coat, gilded in the sunlight that streamed through the rafters… Briar's face lit up.

"Janah?" The mare's ears flicked to attention at the sound of her name. Briar grinned. This was Sandry's horse. Of course it made sense that she'd be here. Janah had gone missing the night Sandry left and he assumed she had gone with her master. But Briar was sad to see the mare go. She was such a lady among the other horses, prancing and flashing her heels in spirit, but always so gentle with Sandry.

Giving Janah's neck one last rub, Briar emerged from the barn. Ahead of him was a stream, cool and clear and blue. The banks were grassy with a small borderline of river rocks. Briar was no artist, but the scene looked so…picturesque. Kneeling on the edge, Briar dipped his hands into the water and cupped some in them. Drinking, Briar sighed as the cool water slid down his throat, the last of his head ache vanishing. He dunked his head in, scrubbed his face and surfaced, dripping.

Briar shook his head, spraying water, and sat back on his heels. Something caught his eye and he turned to the right. Farther upstream the bank rose into a mound overlooking the rushing water with an old cherry tree at the top. The branches spread out and were covered in leaves and white blossoms, which also littered the ground beneath it. And sitting at the base of this tree was Sandry.

She was in a pale green dress, and her light brown hair hung loose on her shoulders. In her hands was a spool of thread and her fingers deftly were working with it, knotting and unknotting, coiling it, braiding it- it was habit Briar remembered well.

Her face was closed and thoughtful, staring into the streams depths as if they held the secrets of the world. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Briar sighed, now was as good a time as any. Shaking his head violently to rid himself annoying droplets, he stood and started walking slowly to the tree.

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A/N: I'm gonna try to get the next one out sooner (o jeez I hope so). Anyway, I thought it'd be cool if any of you devoted (and PATIENT) readers liked to draw, if you wanted to illustrate some scenes from this or something. I've been doing it, but I'm interested to find out what this all looks like in your heads. Let me know if you're interested! 


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Still alive here! Besides laziness and life and the fact that I'm going to college in like a YEAR (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!), I do have another excuse—it was very hard to keep Briar in character while he was groveling. For a while it kind of felt like I had gotten him in too much trouble to dig him back out again. But I think I did ok. What do you think?

Disclaimer: _sue (verb)-_ to institute a process in law against; bring a civil action against _disclaimer (noun)-_ a sentence claiming not to own another's work… a.k.a. covering one's butt so they will not be eaten alive by lawyers

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Sandry felt as if she was fraying like an old cloth. After Briar's drunken confession the night before, everything she had left behind, everything she had tried to lock away, was suddenly out and swirling about in her mind barely giving her room to breath. 

Unlocking her powers had not helped matters, and Sandry did not find any trouble in blaming Briar for that too. Though her connection with Tris and Daja was renewed, they were still too far away to 'talk' to, leaving Sandry to feel hopeless and alone.

Soon after waking, she had tried to confide in Kellen, but the woman was too busy cleaning up the mess from last night, and it felt—not wrong exactly, but like she was too removed from the situation. Kellen knew the story, but she would never truly understand how Sandry's relationship with Briar and her sisters worked.

For so long, the four of them had been close knit, each bringing the others their own uniqueness to add to the flowing tapestry.

Sandry remembered how she used to feel around Briar, before she left, before they had starting hurting each other. When everything was… simpler. The way he would tease and annoy her constantly and yet when Sandry needed him Briar was always by her side, no question. The sense of security she felt with him was comforting, even though she was perfectly capable of defending herself.

Heart aching, Sandry found herself walking slowly along the stream behind the tavern. It was a beautiful day, as if the weather was trying to apologize for being so hot yesterday. Reaching her favorite tree, Sandry plopped herself down, unwinding a piece of un-dyed yarn from its spool.

The yarn needed no persuasion, nearly tearing itself into individual fibers in its excitement to be handled by Sandry. With a chuckle and scolding pinch, Sandry got the fibers to behave, then began weaving intricate designs into it, her mind lost in thought as her fingers flew.

It might have been only a few moments or a few hours, even a few days, when a sound startled Sandry.

Whipping her head around, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks and fought to not chuckle at the sight before her. Briar, who normally prided himself for his street rat stealth and grace, lay sprawled out at the foot of the rise; a loose rock seemed to have been his betrayer. He groaned and picked himself up, muttering curses under his breath to every member of the rock's family, down to the last pebble.

Once Briar was sure the rock was thoroughly chastised, he looked sheepishly up at Sandry. Suddenly Sandry couldn't help it. With an unladylike snort, she burst into laughter. For a second Briar looked miffed, then slow grin spread across his face and his laughter sounded with Sandry's.

Wiping tears of mirth, Sandry looked down at Briar. She had missed this—missed him—so much.

His eyes locked onto hers and the smile faded from Sandry's face. The all too brief moment of the past was gone as they remembered present problems. Sandry cleared her throat and turned back to the river. After a pause, Briar scrambled up the rise, then sat next to her (though, Sandry noted with some amusement, he kept out of Sandry's reach and cast a weary eye at her).

Sandry watched him out of the corner of her eye as his hands ran over the ground. Sensing his magic, Sandry could feel him almost subconsciously strengthening all the plantlife around him, rhythmically spreading life through deadened roots. She couldn't deny that she was fascinated and impressed with his precision. Coupling that with the extreme (though intoxicated) power he had demonstrated last night, Sandry concluded that Briar was maturing thoroughly as a mage, strengthening and practicing his magic daily.

Sandry felt shamed as she compared that to her messy, disorganized magic, which, until last night, was suppressed and ignored as much as Sandry could manage. At the tavern, magic was just one more thing that could attract attention to herself, something she didn't want.

It was odd, releasing her magic after avoiding it so long made Sandry feel loose and rubbery this morning, as if she had been stretched thin trying to contain it.

Beside her, Briar breathed in deep, then exhaled, puffing out his cheeks in a mildly hopeless way.

"I—um. Duchess- I mean, Sandry, well… this is kind of, why did you- can we just… argh!" After fumbling a while for a way to start, Briar groaned and collapsed back on the grass. Sandry bit her lip to stop from smirking lightly. Briar, who normally had no problem letting someone know just what he thought of this or that, was completely tongue-tied. If he was anyone else, Sandry might have felt sorry for him, however, she took some satisfaction at his current distress. She deserved some sort of retribution after this whole mess.

Briar fell silent, staring up at the clouds being born above him. He must have found some answer in them, because he began once again.

"Once upon a time—yes no laughing, please—" he quipped in response to Sandry's disbelieving snort, "there were four very different kids. Each was far more than they seemed; each had inside them immense power, which was woven together to make them even stronger." Briar kept his eyes on the clouds above, and Sandry leaned back against the tree to listen. "And then, as all kids do, they grew up. More or less." Sandry smiled at this. "As they became adults, things got…complicated. They slowly found their group of four was expanding. Outside people and events began dividing them till it seemed their little circle would be broken. Real life got in the way."

One in particular, a stupid, immature ex-thief, found the change disturbing. He saw his friends go out in the world and he was afraid he would get left behind. But the problems didn't end at simply doing different things. One of the skirts had a lot of attention… particularly with the male sort of company." Sandry felt her breath catch at this. Could it be true? All the provoking and teasing? Was he truly jealous?

Briar's voice grew dreamlike—he was lost in memories now. "As much as he tried to ignore the fact that his friend's attention was elsewhere, it bothered him. And in desperation, he began to do the one thing he could think of to get that attention back."

"He picked fights," Sandry breathed through numb lips. Briar winced at the wording, but nodded.

"He picked fights," he echoed. "It seemed for a while that things were going back to normal. But then the fights started to get mean. The idiot boy said things he didn't believe, things that weren't true. He was lashing out at the girl for something that wasn't her fault. And in the end, it had cost him dearly."

One day, after a particularly brutal fight, he woke to find her gone. She had run away, to prove something to everyone. She didn't need them. But it made him realize that he needed her. And as days turned to weeks and months—eventually years—he realized something else. Something he had been trying to deny for a long time." Briar's face was determinedly stoic, but his eyes were bright with what looked suspiciously like tears.

Briar turned his head and looked up, directly into Sandry's eyes.

"He loved her."

Sandry's heart stopped for a moment then began beating with a new vigor, as if it had determined that it would beat out of her chest. She opened her mouth but no sound would come out.

Briar didn't give her a chance. Rolling to his knees, he sat on his heels in front of Sandry. It was hard to talk around the lump in his throat, though he managed.

"And now, that stupid boy has come to beg forgiveness… from someone who has every right to refuse it." She couldn't dam up the tears inside of her. With a sob, Sandry threw her arms around Briar—strong, comforting, and very real—and buried her face into his tunic.

They stayed that way for a long time, till finally Sandry pulled back to wipe her eyes. Then, determination filling every part of her, Sandry grabbed the front of Briar's very wet tunic and kissed him.

She felt Briar stiffen, first with shock and then uncertainty, but as her lips moved over his he began to return her actions in earnest, his arms wrapped around her, one hand on her waist while the other cupped her cheek.

It was a feeling Sandry had never experienced before, and suddenly she felt electrified and almost giddy in her lack of oxygen. When they finally broke apart, both were gasping. Sandry was much disoriented in the fact that she had somehow ended up on the ground with Briar propped up on one elbow above her.

"So," Sandry said breathlessly, "how did the story end?" Briar grinned.

"Don't be so impatient," he murmured hoarsely as his lips danced just above hers. "It's a work in progress." He kissed her.

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Far away in Summersea, Tris looked up from her book and Daja paused from hammering iron in her forge.

**Did you feel that?**

**You don't think…?**

…

**No way.**

**-----------------------------------------------**

_**Fin.**_

**_(as in The End, Finished, Done, There is nothing left, Nada, Zip, Why are you still here?, credits rolling, blackness)

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_**

A/N: hehe, I lied. There will be an epilogue tying things up, but this is as far as the PLOT goes. Funny thing about plot—I had a completely different ending for this story all worked out, but then it turned out like this. Personally, I like it. I suppose this whole 'end-of-an-story-thanks-and-goodbye' thing is kind of offset by the fact that I haven't updated for months, but I'm STILL proud of myself… (dodges flying tomatoes and other such rotten fruit).

PS. D'ya think I let Briar off the hook too easily? I'm curious…


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: And it's up! Read, Read, READ!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the computer.

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"No, you pinch right here, then bend their fingers back… Like that, there you've got it!" Briar leaned against the door frame watching as Sandry adjusted a young maid's hand. The maid was hesitant but flush with excitement as Sandry's grip broke from her wrist. The other girls clustered around gave a cheer and immediately paired up to try themselves. 

Shaking his head Briar rubbed his own fingers, which were bruised and pinched from hours as a practice dummy. It had been three weeks since he and Sandry had said their tearful goodbyes to Kellen, Ben, and the other tavern workers (Sandry was sad to leave her friends, Briar's tears were for emptying his purse on damage repairs). With assurances that they would visit soon, the two made their way back to Emalen.

Sandry was a bit quiet on the return home, though not really out of sadness she had assured him. She was just unsure how she would fit back into the life of a lady. But Sandry, being Sandry, would not make the transition complete or permanent.

It was quite an emotional reunion when she and Briar finally reached Summersea (more tears to Briar's dismay). To Sandry's surprise, her uncle embraced her warmly, and, furthering her shock, she found her shoulder suspiciously damp when he released her. Lark on the other hand, had no qualms about showing her emotions. She clung to Sandry for a good five minutes, sobbing and smoothing her hair and clucking after her like a mother hen till Rosethorn managed to pull her away with a nod of welcome to Sandry.

Finally, Sandry had looked up at Tris and Daja, who had hung back a bit, faces emotionless. Bracing herself, she stepped up to them, not seeing Briar's easy smile. That was why she was completely caught off guard when two pairs of arms encircled her. Briar came up behind her, adding his own arms to the mix, and at last the gaping hole they all had felt was filled.

Sandry closed her eyes and smiled, silent tears streaming down her faces. She was _home_.

After a few days—in which the four were completely and totally inseperable—Sandry began to pick up her old life again. However, the Court would be disappointed. After two years of living as one of her people, Sandry had come back filled with a determination to change things. One project she had started in Summersea (and was hoping to expand to all Emalen cities) was self-defense classes for young women and girls. Briar was suspicious as to the inspiration to this idea, and was furious when she finally told him. However, his righteous fury was quenched when Sandry's newly acquired self-defense skills successfully prevented him from starting a mass man-hunt for her drunken attacker.

Sandry looked up from her student and saw Briar watching her. Her smile turned to a smirk as she beckoned him over to her. Briar shuddered, flexing his hands to enjoy his last moments of mobility.

See, Sandry had been perfectly pleasant to him since the day he—er—apologized to her. Because of this, Briar had been blissfully unaware of the fact that she still held a _tiny_ grudge.

Unfortunately he'd had no idea what helping Sandry with the self-defense class would entail when he had agreed.

So every day, three bells after lunch, he stood in this room as he was pinched, poked, hit, and kicked. And that was a good day.

Of course, afterwards Sandry would always reward him, applying balm to the bruises and nicks on his hands and administering… _attentions_ to him. Briar smiled. It made his beatings a little easier to bare, not to mention mended his pride a bit.

Briar wrapped his arms around Sandry's waist, drawing her towards him. Yes, they definitely made up for it.

His grin turned to a grimace as Sandry slammed her heel on his toe and jammed back his little finger.

_Ouch._

_**The End (for real!!!)

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**_

A/N: Aww! I'm done. Again. Sorry it took way too long, _again_, but it has been a crazy spring, and I had a really hard time finding a way to wrap this thing up just right. But I love Sandry's payback for Briar, how about you? And I wanted Sandry to be a little changed from the experience. So let me know how I did!


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